


Firewhiskey

by Mascot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Compliant with law if not spirit of canon, F/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mascot/pseuds/Mascot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Not my best work, but it filled a Kink Bingo square.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Firewhiskey

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best work, but it filled a Kink Bingo square.

Arthur Weasley looked decidedly uncomfortable as he slipped into the Leaky Cauldron.

“Firewhiskey, please” he muttered. Tom smiled and poured him a generous glass.

“Looks like we’ve got a stranger in town” Tom said amiably.   
With a slight nod of his head, Tom indicated the corner of the bar, where a skinny blonde woman with a nice rack was sitting. Nice rack. Arthur didn’t allow himself to use dirty words, but he relished thinking them. Well, there wasn’t exactly a dirty word there, was there? More a dirty concept.   
Filthy, filthy concept.

The woman smiled and gracefully indicated the seat next to her. She was the sort of tall, quiet blonde who had appeared in the muggle moving picture shows of his youth.   
Wordlessly, she offered him a cigarette. He muttered a quick spell to light it.   
“Hello, there” her voice was low and breathy, either naturally or as an effect. Either way, Arthur felt his cock stir. Her trim black dress did nothing to disguise her curves.   
“Good evening, Miss.” She smiled at him, cool, expectant. As many times as Arthur had done this, it never got easy. “Can I buy you a firewhiskey?”  
“Please.” She said in a low, silky voice. Goderic’s Ghost, she was a lovely creature.   
Arthur nervously gestured to Tom and the drink was poured. Red lips marked the glass as she drank, drawing Arthur’s attention to the living moistness of her full red mouth.   
“How do you do, Miss…”  
“LeBeau. Catherine LeBeau”  
Oh, a name like an old movie actress too. “I’m…er…Tom Granger…ford”  
“I see, Mr. Grangerford,” she said, his assumed name coming out of her mouth more easily than it had his own. “What brings you to Diagon Alley?”  
“I’m a cauldron exporter from across the pond,” Arthur managed, his eyes shifting from Catherine to the pattern he was drawing on the bar with his fingertips. He’d thought of that job in advance and it still hadn’t sounded right, “And yourself?”  
“I’ve just come in from France. I’m an entertainer.” She paused for a moment, downing her firewhiskey. “A very personal entertainer. Of men.”  
“Oh,” So that’s what it was. Either the conversation or the Firewiskey was making Arthur’s cheeks very red. He said in a low voice “And what do you do to entertain them?”  
“It depends on how they want to be entertained,” she purred. “I can usually look at a man and know exactly what he needs.”  
Arthur tried to swallow but his throat was dry.

“What do I need…Catherine?”  
“You’re a good man, Tom. You look like a man who works very hard. You take your family on vacations. But does Tom ever get a vacation? I’m a vacation, Tom. I’m an entire vacation in one girl. I can relax your entire body, Tom.”  
Catherine slowly licked her lips and cocked her head to the side, exposing a span of slender white neck. She knew what his response would be.   
His voice was almost a whisper, “How much?”  
“20 galleons an hour or a hundred for all night. You pay for the room.”  
“Done.”  
Arthur waved Tom over.  
“Room for the night?” Arthur muttered. Years at the Ministry had taught him a certain confidence when he was working. He made his voice sound like Arthur Weasely did at work. Tom was, as ever, discrete and handed Arthur a key. Both transactions were business, efficient and silent. Another wizard halfway across the room wouldn’t have been certain what was going on, and there were no wizards close by.   
“Room four, then,” Tom said, “I’ll put in on your tab.”  
Arthur raised his glass an inch. “Another firewhiskey, please?” He lowered his voice until it was almost inaudible and turned back to Catherine. “Go upstairs. I will have another drink and then follow you.”  
“I’ll be getting myself ready,” she said. That voice again. Arthur’s cock stirred. As Catherine stood, she stroked the back of his neck, her motion less a caress and more a command. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”  
“As if I could if I wanted to,” Arthur said.  
He handed the key to Catherine, who took it easily. She turned and walked slowly up the stairs. Arthur drank her in with his gaze. He fought a gasp when the slit in her dress revealed a long, lithe thigh.   
He turned back to the bar, fairly certain that the mini-drama that had played out had gone unnoticed in the din of the bar. Raucous sounds of laughter, snatches of song and the occasional crack of apparation filled the bar. He downed the whiskey and sat for a few moments, steadying his nerves before he raised the glass to Tom, mouthing the word “Tab?”  
The barkeep nodded and Arthur slowly climbed the stairs.

Catherine had been getting herself ready. Arthur could smell her. She lay lazily in the middle of the large bed the Cauldron rented out for such assignations with legs spread wide. Red panties rode her trim hips and a black bra lined in red accentuated her cleavage.   
That bra and those panties were the tools of her trade, Arthur reasoned.   
“How can I give you your money’s worth?” The words came out in a silvery moan. Catherine did enjoy her work.   
Without responding, Arthur turned and made doubly sure the door was locked.   
“Want to join me?” She pat the bed next to her, this time her tone more gentle.   
“Yes, please.” Arthur clumsily worked his belt. Catherine turned and crawled to the side of the bed, unbuckling it for him. Before he could even sit down, she had his underwear down and her mouth was on him. His entire body shook at the touch of her mouth.   
“N-not yet.” He stammered. She slipped off of him.  
“yes?”  
“I’m not ready.”  
“You look ready,” her voice was slightly impatient. She took him in her thin fingers. “You feel very ready.”  
“I just want to do this right,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers. He lay down on the bed next to her, slipping out of his underwear. His hands slid up her belly to fondle a nipple. Like playing with a puffpod bean, he mused.   
She leaned up and kissed him again, this time gently on the chin.   
He slid a hand across her panties. Her hips came forward and he pinched the fabric as she wiggled out of them.   
“You’ll get your money’s worth yet,” she said, touching him again.   
“I never doubted it.”  
He lay down in the bed, making himself comfortable, then patted her twice on the hip. Taking the cue, she climbed on top, putting her knees outside of his and lowering herself delicately onto him.   
Slowly and carefully, at first, she leaned back, her hands on the bed, displaying herself to him. He stroked her stomach, almost meditatively, then thrust up into her.   
She let out a moan, bringing her hips into a slow circle and letting him explore every inch of her inner geography. Arthur grabbed her bottom, pulling her forward, and thrust again.   
“Yes.” She said, finding her rhythm as they ground into one another. She took over again, making soft moans as she bucked on top of him.   
He reached up and played with her nipples as she squirmed. It was so much fun watching her and it felt so good. He felt the pressure rising in his balls.   
“So good,” he moaned, so close now.   
“Please,” she said, grinding extra hard.   
The final bit of pressure took him over the edge. As he emptied himself into her, he felt her breasts growing in his hands. The blonde hair was turning red and the hips were widening.   
“Molly,” he moaned as he gave a final jerk inside her.   
She smiled affectionately, rubbing a hand through his hair. “We almost didn’t make it,” she said, her voice only mildly chiding.   
“Worth the wait,” he mumbled, spent.   
Aware of the sudden change in the size of her body, she very gently climbed down and lay next to him.   
“I’ll expect a hundred galleons in my shopping fund this month,” she teased.  
“Only if I let you stay the night.”   
She laughed and he kissed her.

 

364 days later…

 

Generally, she cut her own hair at home with a simple spell, but muggle hair salons had their uses. This time, she had picked a tired looking shop in Brixton called Indigo. She had no eye for muggle fashion, but it was trying desperately to cater to the sort of pretty girl who felt the need to advertise herself. When she first stepped in the door, she looked around for a moment, the confused middle aged woman who has come to the wrong shop. She settled her gaze on a young woman getting her hair cut. A brunette. A businesswoman, maybe, but with nice rear end. Molly was already envisioning the sexy librarian who would await Arthur in the Leaky Cauldron this year.

“Can you accept a walk in, Sweetie?” She said. The tired-looking girl at the desk barely looked up.   
“Sure,” she said. “You’ll be with Rosie.”   
A stylist cheerfully waved her over. As she passed the dark-haired woman, she dropped her glasses and made a great show of picking them up, gathering hair in the process. She hoped Rosie wouldn’t take off too much.


End file.
